Cantare Come Sente
by FlameTamer16
Summary: Words are powerful. Lyrics even more so. Follow the Egyptian magicians as they live, laugh, and love - all captured through the lens of music. A collection of song-based one-shots, all pairings. CxZ CxJ JxW WxS SxA - 3: Crawling Back To You.
1. I Heart Question Mark: Taylor Swift

A/N: Hey there, everyone. You may have seen me around the TKC fandom before. Lately I've realized I have far too many ideas and plots bouncing around my head to put into individual one-shots, although I prefer to. Hence I have created a home for my more PWP of them – and they all revolve around songs. These _are _songfics, I guess – although more often than not it won't have the actual lyrics in the fic. More like the plot is just based around the concept.

There will be plenty of Zarter, Jarter, some Sanubis, maybe Salt and Jalt. Pretty much all pairings, actually. So to start off, I picked one that has all five. ;)

Feel free to drop by songs – I may not use them, as I have to see if I'm inspired, but ideas are appreciated all the same. :-)

**Taylor Swift**

I Heart Question Mark

_Wish I had concentrated, they said love was complicated..._

##

None of them liked the sound of it.

First of all, what the hell was "Write The Name Of The Person You Love On The Back Of Your Hand" Day?

Second of all, what kind of holiday has that long a name?

So when Cleo announced the Brooklyn House would be celebrating it once a month, everyone was less than thrilled. They complied, however; everyone knew not to go up against Cleo from Rio, the diehard hopeless romantic. She could make Jaz's shrub curse look like a blessing when she was mad.

The first month, everyone took it lightly. Names of pets, insects, animals, even randomly named inanimate objects were scrawled across the hands of the magicians in everything from Sharpie to ball pen to magic marker.

Then Cleo went a little overboard and threatened to spell them if they didn't tell the truth, and if it wasn't a legit person.

Carter tried to stop her, even Sadie, but neither of them wanted to spend time sucked into a gadget - or worse, a game of Angry Birds - so they relented. Sometimes Cleo's technology manipulating skills were far from helpful. _No one_, not even smug green pigs deserve to be abused that way. Even from cute fluffy birds.

So - easy, right? For the next few months it was relatives (although Sadie swore she'd rather write Felix down than Carter) or people of the same sex, so it could pass off as sibling love. No one wanted to face writing anything that could serve as teasing material, but neither did they want to face Cleo's wrath. It was limbo.

And then Jaz Anderson changed everything the day she decided, _Hell with it_, and wrote WALT in big block letters across her left hand.

Everybody stared, Sadie most of all. Jaz just smiled, even to Walt's face when his eyes nearly popped out of his head.

From that moment on, the day wasn't a silly made-up holiday. It was a do-or-die contest.

Carter spent nearly the whole day locked up in his room before he shuffled out with _Zia _written across in nearly illegible script, even though he rarely took the hand out of his pocket and despite her not even being present at the House. Even then, it was only because Jaz coaxed (or rather, dragged) him out.

For Jaz and Sadie, it was something like war.

Jaz would wear the WALT around every month, cooly and fearlessly, carrying it off like it was nothing. Sadie would be quietly fuming, teetering. Most of the times she'd written and rubbed out so many times in indecision the back of her hand looked like she'd dunked it in ink.

Walt, the lucky guy, found his way out of it by sneaking on a baseball mitt over his hand every time the 'holiday' came around, and muttered some excuse about training. Cleo looked at him darkly but otherwise left him alone, much to his relief.

And everything went alright until the holiday fell on Friday the 13th.

Jaz would proclaim later that it was a "Lucky Swift Day" (and Carter would forever be trying to figure out what she meant) but at the time it was nothing but chaos.

The first unlucky thing that happened: Zia Rashid arrived to help with training.

Normally Carter would have been thrilled by this event, but he'd gotten used to writing her name across his hand every month, and now that it was in bold Sharpie he figured he was pretty screwed if she found out what was going on.

Second: Walt had challenged Carter to a friendly baseball-off, seeing as Carter completely failed at basketball. He'd agreed, and Jaz had decided to join in as cheer.

This wouldn't have been so bad if Jaz's cheerleader uniform did _not _look like it could have belonged to a McKinley Cheerio. Every male eye followed her down the hall, earning quite a few slap marks on some unlucky guys who had already been dating.

Third: Sadie seemed to have finally made up her mind, because she had her hand in her sweater pocket (or 'jumper', as she insisted) instead of letting the usual smudged mess show.

Again, it didn't seem like a bad thing, but just wait. This was Friday the 13th, after all. Something _had _to go wrong. It was a law of the universe that seem to be applied to everyone but that country singer person Jaz seemed to be obsessed with.

The game started in the evening, when the weather was cool. Walt had made a makeshift diamond, carving a path with a branch and using leftovers of breakfast's rock-hard waffles as plates (Carter tried not to be offended).

Carter was playing with the aim of impressing Zia (hey, he was desperate, okay?) and prayed to whatever god was in charge of sports that he wouldn't screw up horribly. Said god was probably feeling sadistic that day, because quite the opposite happened.

The first few runs went fine. The magicians sat around and cheered, some taking Walt's side and others Carter's. Jaz was cheering for no-one in particular, although it was safe to say more of the guys were watching her than the actual game (which Carter for some reason wasn't too happy about). Zia had been filled in on the holiday by Cleo, but luckily hadn't been observant that day and didn't spot Carter's hand - and he was starting to believe Jaz's lucky theory as he shrunk the bold Sharpie print down to small letters in ball pen.

Then Sadie forgot about her hand and pulled it out to cheer Walt on, letting the bold _Anubis _show clear as day.

Which resulted in Walt losing concentration instead, sending the ball spinning, glove along with it.

Which ended up with his bare hand clutching the bat, the _Sadie _scribbled across glaring right in Jaz's face.

The rogue ball (of course) had to hit Carter square in the face, sending him face-planting by Zia's feet, hand outstretched to stop his fall.

There was silence for a minute. Jaz stared at Walt's hand. Walt stared at Sadie's. Zia stared at Carter's.

And then like hitting play on a remote, everything happened at once. Jaz, looking like she might explode (and this was saying something - an angry Jaz Anderson was less common than penguins absent at dinner) stalked off, leaving Walt gaping after both her and Sadie like a fish as Carter's sister blushed, scrambling after the cheerleader. Zia's lips parted into an _o _as she took in Carter's hand, and he himself was sure his face was going to catch on fire.

The day after, Zia Rashid acted strange. She avoided Carter completely, much to his disappointment. He was crushed, and by the end of the day could be found sulking in his room, ignoring everyone who knocked on his door except Jaz, who seemed to be the only person who he would talk to. Several rumors spread at this, but they both brushed it off as 'being in the same boat'.

Walt wouldn't meet Sadie's eyes, and vice versa. The blonde spent most of her day in her room, blasting Adele so loud nearly the whole house could hear it. It almost rivaled with the Taylor Swift blaring from Jaz's bedroom. It was almost funny, if one were to listen to the overlapping voices, almost sounding like they were arguing...or maybe agreeing.

"_We could have had it all-"_

"_I could have loved you all my life-"_

"_It was dark, and I was over-"_

"_It's getting dark and it's all so quiet and I can't trust anything now-"_

The only person Walt seemed to want to talk to was Jaz, but she was beyond ticked at him, either alone or with Carter, glowering at Walt every time he passed.

Things only got worse. In the following days, Zia left. No goodbye, no warning. Just a note posted on the kitchen fridge that she was going back to the first nome.

Walt and Sadie began to start speaking, but seeing them together seemed to make Jaz even more, well...un-Jaz-like. The trainees were sure she was going to erupt any time, but suddenly Carter seemed to be hanging around the blonde a lot more, working a whole other kind of magic. And suddenly they were both smiling again.

So it really wasn't that much of a surprise when Jaz's hand read _Carter _the next time that day came around, or Carter's hand _Jaz_. Neither was it that Walt had his arm around Sadie - even if she _did _look conflicted - or that Zia was nowhere to be seen. Everybody agreed it was better without Carter moping around all the time, and apparently Jaz had had some sort of influence on Carter's choice in food, which improved things considerably. You never truly appreciate barbecue until you eat grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch and dinner every day for several weeks.

And maybe Cleo's little monthly festival turned out okay after all.

But that was before Zia came back. And was it mentioned that Sadie chose Anubis after a few weeks, but never could quite stop turning back?

You've probably guessed by now that the love life of a magician is never easy.

So the next time that holiday came along - that _stupid, cursed _holiday which started all of it - none of them wrote a name. Zia, quite simply, didn't really have anyone to put down, so she settled for a symbol - ? - instead. Carter and Jaz were both too confused out of their minds to put down anything but a squiggly question mark. Walt sulkily traced a hook and dotted it, along with a frustrated Sadie Kane.

And when Cleo opened her mouth to berate them, she was met with the intimidating site of five very angry magicians, holding ivory wands in their question mark cladded hands.

To this day, Cleo from Rio is now a very elegant shrub displayed in New York's Botanical Gardens.


	2. Fix You: Coldplay

A/N: Hello again, everyone. Thank you so much for all the support and reviews! :)

In case you were wondering, the title is a phrase in Italian. Literally translated it means, "singing as he feels".

Here I'm returning to my good ol' favorite: angsty Zarter. There's nothing better than that.

Warning: Emoness ahead.

**Coldplay**

Fix You

_When you lose something you can't replace_

_When you love someone and but it goes to waste_

_Could it be worse?_

##

"No, dammit, _no!_"

This wasn't supposed to be happening. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

When he said they would slay Apophis at all costs, he didn't mean this.

_Nothing _was worth this.

"You are _staying _with me, Zia, _do you understand_?"

Of course, she didn't think so.

She had ignored his desperate plea, stepping beyond the front line. Beyond the safety of the shield, beyond the help of the archers. Between them and the enemy, them and the serpent, him and Apophis.

"What are you waiting for? _Get it out of her!"_

Stubborn. That was an understatement for Zia Rashid.

She listened to no-one. Even him, when he _told _her it wouldn't work.

But she went anyway. Of course she would, and he had been a fool not to foresee it.

"I don't _care _what you have to do for her, Jasmine, just _do it_!"

It had happened so fast he barely had had time to register it.

It was her, it had to be - a humanoid form encased in a vortex of flames, a flash of cold metal. And it - a writhing coil of scales, the glint of jagged incisors.

A second later and it was over. A deafening, agonized screech rang out.

His vision had began to blur even then, rejecting what he saw. The broken, bleeding girl on the sands negated the very existence of the scalded snake in his mind.

"_What do you mean_, it's no use? You're a healer! _Heal her!_"

So they had killed the snake.

But now it hardly seemed to matter.

_When you get what you want but not what you need..._

The world swirled around Carter. He was squeezing Zia's hand so tight it was purple, tears streaming down his face.

They stained her linen robes where the blood hadn't - salty liquid of agony, loss, disbelief, mourning.

He was on his knees by her side, almost as if pleading. With who, he didn't know. Perhaps the snake, perhaps Anubis.

Maybe he was pleading with her.

"Stay with me." He was desperate, frantically searching her amber eyes for any sign of recognition.

How many times he'd seen them guarded, walled, pained, sorrowed, determined, cold, warm, sparkling.

He never thought he'd see them broken.

Finally Jaz pressed a cold steel flask into his hand. Without waiting a second he emptied the contents into Zia's mouth, tilting back her head to force it into her.

"You will _not _die on me, do you understand?" Carter never knew he could sound so fierce - it surprised even himself.

They waited for a second, every breath held.

Zia coughed and sputtered, and immediately Carter was pulling her into an upright position. "Zia?"

Her slightly clouded golden eyes darted around, focusing on him with difficulty.

"Zia. P-please. You can't do this."

Even saying it, the dread was sinking in his stomach. Horus's stubborn perseverance aside, Carter knew Jaz was right. It was hopeless. The snake had nearly cleaved her in half - horrible gouges scoured her whole torso, skin nearly black as the venom raced to her heart.

"Carter." He started when she said his name, gripping her hand tighter. Her voice was the worst he'd ever heard it - hoarse, raspy, cracked.

"Zia, please, I-"

Suddenly the loss crashed down on him like the weight of the world.

He couldn't lose her. He wouldn't.

"I'll fix you. I swear. I won't let you g-"

"Carter." This time her voice was slightly more steady, eyes still managing to convey determination even as her features were twisted in pain. "Carter. Let it-" Her eyes widened slightly and she coughed, scarlet tracing its way from her mouth. "Let it go," she finished with difficulty, breathing ragged.

"_No!_" He nearly shouted. "I am not letting you go, Zia!"

To his surprise, she was smiling.

Drenched in blood, torn and beaten blue, Zia Rashid was smiling at him like she found him amusing.

"I'm going to be alright," she murmured, staring across at the setting desert sun.

"Yes, you are. You're going to-" He stopped short when he realized what she meant, meeting her wry gaze.

"Z-Zia..." Carter's voice shook along with his whole body, violent trembles wracking through him.

The smile faded somewhat, and she squeezed his hand weakly. "Thank you."

It was whispered - so quiet he almost missed it despite being barely a foot away. But he heard, locked in her gaze. Her eyes were like amber, and he felt like a fly - trying to escape but slowly drowning in pools of gold.

It struck him that it was probably the last time he would see the color.

"Ha-tep," he choked.

"Yes, Carter." She closed her eyes, lips turned up. "Peace."

Her hand went slack.

Everyone was quiet. There was dead, complete stillness. Silent grief filled the air, dozens of salty drops quenching the dry desert soil.

He wasn't quite sure how long he sat there. Longer than the others - though they sat hours, he kept complete vigil. The sun sank beneath the dunes, and still he stayed; the moon rose to the center of the inky black sky, and still he stayed; even when morning painted the sand pink he was kneeled by her form.

It was no particular moment when he finally rose, releasing the hand which had long since gone cold.

The one person he gave himself to.

The one person who understood.

The one person he...he loved.

And maybe she felt the same way. Just maybe.

But it didn't matter.

He stood there for a little while longer. Something seemed wrong. Maybe he was being sentimental, or maybe the shock had screwed up his head, but she didn't look at peace.

It was no surprise - dead in the desert where her family had been lost, where she had been trapped, where her own life had eventually been extinguished.

Perhaps it was stupid. After all, the she was a hero. She deserved a ceremony like one, sunk in the river at dawn with the blessing of the gods.

But he somehow knew she would like it better this way.

So he summoned the small flame on the tip of his finger and held it to the driest patch of her robes, turning his back as soon as the fire caught.

The others emerged not so long after, eyes wide in shock as they took in the burning pyre where Zia once lay.

Somehow it was plain to see how it happened - especially since he was sitting only a while away, watching the smoke rise into the sky.

_Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones..._

"_And I will try to fix you."_


	3. Crawling Back To You: Daughtry

A/N: Hey there, all, and happy holidays! I'm sincerely sorry for the ridiculously late update. Luckily, a mad scramble/trek across Thailand with twenty three other teenagers and nothing but pen and paper for entertainment does tend to give you some good story ideas.

A shoutout and huuuuge thank you to Frenzied Warrior. Forget about making my day, you made my whole week. Maybe month. :P I can't thank you enough or even put into words how much that meant to me, both the review and the time you took to write it. :-) This is what you asked – Zia angst and Carter-hurt (kind of) although I only realized it fit after writing it..

Apologies in advance for the emoness/angst.. I'll draw up a good ol' lighthearted one next. Promise. :)

**Daughtry**

Crawling Back To You

_Lessons learned_

_Bridges burned to the ground_

_It's too late now to put out the fire…_

_##_

"I don't need him, Jaz! I don't need _anyone_!"

The blue eye narrowed, fearlessly opposing burning amber. "I beg to differ, Zia. You do. Every day."

"I have never, and will never rely on anyone. Anyone! Least of all a boy!"

"Just listen to yourself!" Jaz exclaimed in frustration. I'm sorry, but you know what? You sound nine. Wake up!" The force of her words were uncharacteristic but powerful, anger and venom leaking into her usually controlled voice. "You need him every bit that he needs you! He's not some idiot who can't grasp a concept like you think! He's our leader! Our equal! Why _shouldn't _he be trusted? Relied on?"

"I trust him with my safety. We all do." Zia's golden eyes seared like molten metal, and she spoke through clenched teeth. "But I will never trust another soul with my thoughts. My mind is my last sanctuary. Give me one reason why I should exploit it."

"You're not some kind of superwoman, Zia! We all need someone for us! You can't live your entire life like you have a stone heart!" The elementalist had never seen her friend so angry - eyes shooting sparks like azure flames - but her pride clouded judgment too much to care.

"Like you would know," she spat. "You don't know a thing. You grew up with a perfect family, perfect house, perfect damn life. What would you know?"

To her surprise, it didn't provoke Jaz further. She just let out a dry, mirthless laugh. "More than you think/" Though when she turned away, arms wrapped around her torso, something more flashed across her face. "You may know more about guarding yourself, fine. But don't you ever think I don't know what it's like to feel pain."

"Why do you even care so much?" Zia crossed her arms, stubborn as usual.

"I ask myself that all the time." Something new had entered her tone - a hard edge. Conflict? Loss? Jealousy?

Silence for a while. Then Jaz spoke once more. "Don't you see how much he needs you? Don't you have some _sympathy_?"

"So I should hurt myself for his dream?"

"Damn it!" The blonde spun around again, exasperated. "You're selfish, Zia! Do you ever think of _anyone_ but yourself?"

She stiffened, but maintained her composure. "I wouldn't be standing here if I did. Life is cruel. I've done what I have to.

Something glistened on the other's cheek, but it was gone in a split second like the drops slipping down the glass window. A whisper; "You don't deserve him." Her voice broke.

Another lapse into tense, rigid silence.

"I know I don't. I don't deserve him, I don't need him. We're both better off without each other. Leave me. Take him if it makes you happy. It will be better for everyone." And with that Zia Rashid left the room, head held high.

"You'll regret it," Jaz muttered bitterly, watching the door swing shut. She would come back. Soon she would run out of things to burn.

_Take him if it makes you happy._

If only it was that simple. If only Zia knew what she could do, knew how she had branded him with flames even she couldn't control. If only she knew she would always be his first choice. Nobody would stand a chance. Just a replacement, a filler for a hole that would always be smoking.

Only Zia Rashid could make him happy. Only she could help him, no matter how the healer tried.

If only she cared that much.

###

_Don't need you. I don't need you._

Ivory struck ebony, sparks flying as wand and staff collided with a jolt of force.

_I don't need someone else leaving._

A small, condemned part of her mind bristled in protest, and she ruthlessly slashed her staff forward in a torrent of flames, forcing her head back into the fight.

She managed a total of three seconds before it wandered again.

Flashes, memories - words, his face, expressions. Zia gritted her teeth in frustration and jabbed the clawed end of the wooden rod at her opponent's torso.

Guilt. That was why he haunted her, came back just when she thought she'd forgotten. Guilt of leaving without a warning. Nothing else.

_Lying to yourself won't change anything._ The chiding voice reminded her vaguely of Jaz, which brought a fresh wave of irritation.

Flaming scarlet tongues enveloped the staff's head, a scorching mallet.

"Enough! You win, Zia! Don't incinerate me, will you?" The magician ducked out of the room before she could respond, leaving her alone with a smoldering rod.

Zia watched the fire burn itself out, mind blank, then followed without a word.

###

_(And the healer hates that she is right – of _course _she is. Of course he will welcome the other back with open arms like he is the one in the wrong. Of course he will put the same blind faith in the very same flames that burned him from the very start. Of course he'll step into the hearth again, for better of for worse._

_But it is not her place to be bitter.)_

###

The room was dark.

It had been for hours now, the stub of a candle long since burned out.

Silence. Not even the rush of wind penetrated the room.

The night was still.

She was alone, lying on the dusty bed, amber eyes the only source of light in the pitch black; two luminous golden orbs.

This was not the first night she had spent like this. At night an aching loss, so absolute and obliterating crashed down on her, the kind of merciless pain she had long ago surrendered to masks and what she thought were fading scars. Now they seemed to be ripped open again. Her family, her home, everything torn away mindlessly, like life itself had no meaning.

She had always been so strong. She had never needed anyone but herself, anything but her own wit and ability to hide her emotions from every inquiring eye.

But something about going back there again - feeling the warmth family could bring, being _loved_ (and the word seemed so alien to her now) - had made solitude so much colder. Frigid, even; every bone and muscle seemed to be frozen in the malevolent frost, paralyzing her, trapping and suffocating her like a coiling snake, crushing her inside out. Back into the mask she'd donned for countless years.

Only now it was different. Now she yearned to break free, for someone to know her. It was a foolish desire, but she had had enough with being the only person in her own world. _(And she knows in this world, if she were to die this moment, not a singe soul would spare the slightest twinge of remorse)._

He had changed her. It was subtle; so much so that she didn't even see it herself.

Now she was paying the price.

_"You can't live your entire life-"_

What was life, anyway, with no-one to care? Save Kane, who would she have made a difference to if she had died with her parents that day in the village?

_"You need him. Everyday..."_

It was times like this when she let the words wash over her, taunting and tormenting. As cruel as they were, Zia had come to grudgingly accept them.

_"You don't deserve him."_

That was the sole thing keeping her back because her damned pride didn't mean a thing anymore. Not compared to this silent torment. Even if he had changed her - and for better or for worse, who knew? - what had she done for him? As selfish as the healer claimed she was _(and she won't deny it, because beneath her pride she knows it is true)_, not enough to claim him back only to drag him into the same misery.

_"Don't you see how much he needs you?"_

Even though Jaz's words had all deemed themselves true, Zia still had a hard time believing these.

If he needed her...well then, if he needed her, she could go back.

Suddenly the thought, the desire was overwhelming - for this endless anguish to cease, to run back to the hearth after what felt like years straggling through the bitter, hailing night.

All she had to do was walk back through the door.

A small spark of hope. That was all it took, and within seconds a flaming hunger was burning through her, melting the walls of frosted ice. _(Back)._

The candle sputtered to life.


End file.
